02-06-2016, 06:52 AM
Smith considered the possibilities whilst the others conversed and bickered around him. It was obvious this was the Matrix. But things seemed strange. The hologram before him spoke of heroes and gathering artifacts. Like this was some sort of video game. It was strange… why would the Machines turn the Matrix into some sort of interactive entertainment?
Unless… unless this wasn’t a part of the Matrix itself. Of course. It was the only logical conclusion. The hologram… the scenery… the clichéd “save me from an evil wizard” speech. The Machines would never have let the ignorant masses of humanity into a construct this far removed from their collective memory of the old world. This had to be some sort of test. Smith’s eyes scanned the other people in the room from behind his dark glasses. And these were likely other programs, like himself. Perhaps potential Agents, or perhaps not. He’d not put it past the Machines to pit their creations against one another to determine who would be best suited to regulate the human population.
It was the most likely possibility, but it still didn’t explain why Smith was here at all. He had been deleted, that much was certain. Why was he back? Had his code somehow managed to survive? And even if it had, why would the Machines allow him back into the Matrix at all? Or could they not know? Perhaps… yes. That’s it. They hadn’t succeeded in entirely wiping his program from its hosts. One must have survived the deletion process and-
Smith’s internal musings were interrupted by an angry voice addressing him. The Ex-Agent calmly turned to regard his antagonist. It was a tall man, though his most striking feature was the unusual hue of his skin, a strange green color. The man’s eyes, one a solid red and the other a more normal color, shone in a sign of unrestrained anger. Smith’s recall protocols retrieved what the man had said in the awkward silence that settled over the two as they each sized the other up.
So… he knew what Smith was, did he? That only reaffirmed Smith’s assumptions about the nature of this place. Of course… the man would need to be dealt with later. Information like that could be dangerous to Smith’s continued survival. But for now, it would be best to put the man at greater ease. Smith was no slouch, by any means, but he could hardly attempt to take over the man in the presence of all the others here. It would draw far too much suspicion, even if he was successful. For now, a more… diplomatic approach would be necessary.
“That’s… some greeting there, Mister…” Smith’s program struggled to come up with the entity’s name for an instant before simply leaving the honorary as is. Once upon a time, not long ago, Smith was connected to the Source. He’d had access to the nearly infinite knowledge contained therein. He could merely look at someone and every detail of his or her life, from the smallest bowel movement to their grandest accomplishments, would be laid out for him to peruse. After his separation from the Source, he had been forced to rely on his own knowledge of the world and its people. Still, he had never gotten used to not having that vast information at his fingertips.
“Are you this rude to everyone…? Or do you have some… problem with me?”
As he spoke, the Ex-Agent’s facial features, or his hand gestures would change in a way to facilitate communication. However, this would only happen during the brief pauses in his speech, a hold-over from a time when the processing power of the Matrix was unable to handle speech and movement at the same time. It made for a strange sort of dialogue for the Agents created by the Machines, but they weren’t really designed with communication being the point.
Smith’s arms hung by his side, his hands half-clenched into fists, not a position of aggression, merely one of being ready FOR aggression. He continued.
“In any case… I’m afraid you’ll have to ask that floating… man why it is I am here,” Smith gestured towards the Spirit as he spoke. “If he is to be… believed, then I am a champion, yes? A man of… honor. Someone who can save him from his… eternal unrest. Perhaps you’d be best directing your aggression towards… a more constructive purpose.”
The green-skinned stranger seemed a bit put off by Smith’s words, a slight twinge of his face belying an internal struggle of confusion. Smith’s words had been chosen specifically for that purpose. It is why he did not challenge the man’s assertion of his viral nature, as incorrect as it was. Everything about Smith was calculated and purposeful, his very nature left no room for the random motives of a living creature. He wondered if the man before him would be able to figure that out. And if he did, how exactly would Smith end his existence.
Unless… unless this wasn’t a part of the Matrix itself. Of course. It was the only logical conclusion. The hologram… the scenery… the clichéd “save me from an evil wizard” speech. The Machines would never have let the ignorant masses of humanity into a construct this far removed from their collective memory of the old world. This had to be some sort of test. Smith’s eyes scanned the other people in the room from behind his dark glasses. And these were likely other programs, like himself. Perhaps potential Agents, or perhaps not. He’d not put it past the Machines to pit their creations against one another to determine who would be best suited to regulate the human population.
It was the most likely possibility, but it still didn’t explain why Smith was here at all. He had been deleted, that much was certain. Why was he back? Had his code somehow managed to survive? And even if it had, why would the Machines allow him back into the Matrix at all? Or could they not know? Perhaps… yes. That’s it. They hadn’t succeeded in entirely wiping his program from its hosts. One must have survived the deletion process and-
Smith’s internal musings were interrupted by an angry voice addressing him. The Ex-Agent calmly turned to regard his antagonist. It was a tall man, though his most striking feature was the unusual hue of his skin, a strange green color. The man’s eyes, one a solid red and the other a more normal color, shone in a sign of unrestrained anger. Smith’s recall protocols retrieved what the man had said in the awkward silence that settled over the two as they each sized the other up.
So… he knew what Smith was, did he? That only reaffirmed Smith’s assumptions about the nature of this place. Of course… the man would need to be dealt with later. Information like that could be dangerous to Smith’s continued survival. But for now, it would be best to put the man at greater ease. Smith was no slouch, by any means, but he could hardly attempt to take over the man in the presence of all the others here. It would draw far too much suspicion, even if he was successful. For now, a more… diplomatic approach would be necessary.
“That’s… some greeting there, Mister…” Smith’s program struggled to come up with the entity’s name for an instant before simply leaving the honorary as is. Once upon a time, not long ago, Smith was connected to the Source. He’d had access to the nearly infinite knowledge contained therein. He could merely look at someone and every detail of his or her life, from the smallest bowel movement to their grandest accomplishments, would be laid out for him to peruse. After his separation from the Source, he had been forced to rely on his own knowledge of the world and its people. Still, he had never gotten used to not having that vast information at his fingertips.
“Are you this rude to everyone…? Or do you have some… problem with me?”
As he spoke, the Ex-Agent’s facial features, or his hand gestures would change in a way to facilitate communication. However, this would only happen during the brief pauses in his speech, a hold-over from a time when the processing power of the Matrix was unable to handle speech and movement at the same time. It made for a strange sort of dialogue for the Agents created by the Machines, but they weren’t really designed with communication being the point.
Smith’s arms hung by his side, his hands half-clenched into fists, not a position of aggression, merely one of being ready FOR aggression. He continued.
“In any case… I’m afraid you’ll have to ask that floating… man why it is I am here,” Smith gestured towards the Spirit as he spoke. “If he is to be… believed, then I am a champion, yes? A man of… honor. Someone who can save him from his… eternal unrest. Perhaps you’d be best directing your aggression towards… a more constructive purpose.”
The green-skinned stranger seemed a bit put off by Smith’s words, a slight twinge of his face belying an internal struggle of confusion. Smith’s words had been chosen specifically for that purpose. It is why he did not challenge the man’s assertion of his viral nature, as incorrect as it was. Everything about Smith was calculated and purposeful, his very nature left no room for the random motives of a living creature. He wondered if the man before him would be able to figure that out. And if he did, how exactly would Smith end his existence.